


Codename: Niagara

by Regency



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Assassination Plot(s), BAMF!Anthea, BAMF!Mycroft, Ficlet, Gen, post-episode: A Scandal in Belgravia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-13
Updated: 2014-02-13
Packaged: 2018-01-12 06:58:10
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 649
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1183256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Regency/pseuds/Regency
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After the operation in ASiB goes belly-up, Mycroft is set to be replaced, but his people won’t see him put out to pasture so easily.  An assassination attempt goes awry as the British Government turns itself inside out to keep him safe.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Codename: Niagara

**Author's Note:**

> Author’s Notes: Inspired largely by the Immediate/Globus song ‘Catch the Falling Sky.’ Codename: Niagara means the enemies are about to pour in.

                Mycroft is visiting his brother at another of his crime scenes when he feels the change in the wind.  Doctor Watson is being engaging in balance of Sherlock’s long-suffering childishness while Detective Inspector Lestrade merely looks on with the amusement of a father doting on his sons.  Mycroft’s left brow rises in spite of him, as he knows he’s but a few years younger than the greying inspector and he hasn’t any idea when he allowed himself to be sucked into the maelstrom of petulance that is his brother’s daily life.  _Ah, on the day of his birth, wasn’t it?_  He hasn’t ventured far from it since.

 

                As he’s about to call Sherlock on this very fact, he feels a delicate touch on his wrist.  There are few who dare to touch him with any regularity, so he knows who he’ll see when he turns his head.  His Clytemnestra—ah, no, it’s Nike today—she has curved fingertips to his pulse point, she is meeting his gaze squarely when she says quite softly for her usual, “We have to go now, sir.”

 

                Mycroft frowns and mentally reviews his schedule for the day. He detects nothing gone amiss, can recall no events on the daily checklist he hasn’t seen to.  “Is there something I’ve forgotten, my dear?”  Her smile takes on a wistful twist.  His heart imitates her smile as it makes its way out of his chest and into his throat.  “I see.”  He doesn’t believe there is anything more dignified he can say.

 

                He turns back to the good doctor, the inspector, and his brother.  “It appears I _have_ forgotten something.  I’m afraid I must be going.”  He originally intends to leave as he would on any other occasion, but he can’t quite bring himself to walk away without leaving these men with something more substantial than routine.  He offers his hand to Lestrade, who takes it in stride and shakes in return.  He offers the same to Doctor Watson, who behaves as though he expected nothing different.  Mycroft has only the shallowest understanding of the doctor’s impression of him; perhaps he does understand underneath it all.  His brother, he merely tells to “take care,  _mon_ _petit_ _frère_.”  Sherlock sees too much.  Anything more would be telling.

 

                Nike nods to the gentlemen and, hooking her arm through his, begins to lead him away.  Away from the crime scene, away from his only family, away…from the car which ferried them here.  He allows his gaze to drift from it to her in clear question.  She merely tightens her grasp and urges him forward more quickly with a pull.  He supposes she is eager to have done with the job, but he had believed her to be a friend.

 

                They are slipping off down the way, the sidewalk moderately crowded as they pass a number of shops, cafes, and kiosks.  Though usually startlingly loud, Nike has taken to lightening her steps.  Sensing there are things being left unspoken, he follows suit.  It is not long after that he becomes aware of their being pursued.  _Suits, black and blue, and plainclothes._   Mycroft ducks ever so; he has never so abhorred his considerable height before.

 

                A stranger attached to a mobile collides with Nike, shoving her apart from Mycroft and into an uncontrolled fall.  _Planned_ , Mycroft deduces and steps into the contact rather than away, rounding the man to drive an elbow between his shoulder blades. He trips, but Mycroft doesn’t stop, catching Nike’s arm and pulling her behind him.  Things are beginning to crystallize.  _This is not an assassination, this is a rescue attempt._

                Mycroft has known for some time that his life was forfeit the moment the Bond gambit went to pieces.  He had not known there were those who wished to save it.  He thinks perhaps there is some advantage to caring and being cared for after all.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd originally planned to spin this out into a much bigger story, but this does the job decently for now. Maybe I'll do more later on.
> 
> Disclaimer: I don't own any characters recognizable as being from _Sherlock_. They are the property of their actors, producers, writers, and studios, not me. No copyright infringement was intended and no money was made in the writing or distribution of this story. It was good, clean fun.


End file.
